安徒生童話故事：小鬼和太太The Goblin and the Woman

　　在學(xué)習(xí)、工作乃至生活中，大家對童話都不陌生吧，童話故事通過豐富的想象、幻想和夸張手法來編寫適合于兒童欣賞的故事，你還記得哪些童話故事呢？下面是小編幫大家整理的安徒生童話故事：小鬼和太太The Goblin and the Woman，歡迎大家分享。

　　故事中文版

　　你認(rèn)識小鬼，但是你認(rèn)識太太——園丁的老婆嗎?她很有學(xué)問，能背誦許多詩篇，還能提筆就寫出詩來呢。只有韻腳——她把它叫做“順口字”——使她感到有點麻煩。她有寫作的天才和講話的天才。她可以當(dāng)一個牧師，最低限度當(dāng)一個牧師的太太。

　　“穿上了星期日服裝的大地是美麗的!”她說。于是她把這個意思寫成文字和“順口字”，最后就編成一首又美又長的詩。

　　專門學(xué)校的學(xué)生吉塞路普先生——他的名字跟這個故事沒有什么關(guān)系——是她的外甥;他今天來拜訪園丁。他聽到這位太太的詩，說這對他很有益，非常有益。

　　“舅媽，你有才氣!”他說。

　　“胡說八道!”園丁說。“請你不要把這種思想灌進(jìn)她的腦袋里去吧。一個女人應(yīng)該是一個實際的人，一個老老實實的人，好好地看著飯鍋，免得把稀飯燒出焦味來。”

　　“我可以用一塊木炭把稀飯里的焦味去掉呀!”太太說。

　　“至少你身上的焦味，我只須用輕輕的一吻就可以去掉。別人以為你的心里只想著白菜和馬鈴薯，事實上你還喜歡花!”于是她吻了他一下。“花就是才氣呀!”她說。

　　“請你還是看著飯鍋吧!”他說。接著他就走進(jìn)花園里去了，因為花園就是他的飯鍋，他得照料它。

　　學(xué)生跟太太坐下來，跟太太討論問題。他對“大地是美麗的”這個可愛的詞句大發(fā)了一通議論，因為這是他的習(xí)慣。

　　“大地是美麗的;人們說：征服它吧!于是我們就成了它的統(tǒng)治者。有的人用精神來統(tǒng)治它，有的人用身體來統(tǒng)治它。有的人來到這個世界上像一個驚嘆號，有的人來到這個世界上像一個破折號，這使我不禁要問：他來做什么呢?這個人成為主教，那個人成為窮學(xué)生，但是一切都是安排得很聰明的。大地是美麗的，而且老是穿著節(jié)日的服裝!舅媽，這件事本身就是一首充滿了感情和地理知識的、發(fā)人深省的詩。”

　　“吉塞路普先生，你有才氣!”太太說，“很大的才氣!我一點也不說假話。一個人跟你談過一席話以后，立刻就能完全了解自己。”

　　他們就這樣談下去，覺得彼此趣味非常相投。不過廚房里也有一個人在談話，這人就是那個穿灰衣服、戴一頂紅帽子的小鬼。你知道他吧!小鬼坐在廚房里，是一個看飯鍋的人。他一人在自言自語，但是除了一只大黑貓——太太把他叫做“奶酪賊”——以外，誰也不理他。

　　小鬼很生她的氣，因為他知道她不相信他的存在。她當(dāng)然沒有看見過他，不過她既然這樣有學(xué)問，就應(yīng)該知道他是存在的，同時也應(yīng)該對他略微表示一點關(guān)心才對。她從來沒有想到過，在圣誕節(jié)的晚上應(yīng)該給他一湯匙稀飯吃。這點兒稀飯，他的祖先總是得到的，而且給的人總是一些沒有學(xué)問的太太，而且稀飯里還有黃油和奶酪呢。貓兒聽到這話時，口涎都流到胡子上去了。

　　“她說我的存在不過是一個概念!”小鬼說，“這可是超出我的一切概念以外的一個想法。她簡直是否定我!我以前聽到她說過這樣的話，剛才又聽到她說了這樣的話。她跟那個學(xué)生——那個小牛皮大王——坐在一起胡說八道。我對老頭子說：‘當(dāng)心稀飯鍋啦!’她卻一點也不放在心上。現(xiàn)在我可要讓它熬焦了!”

　　于是小鬼就吹起火來。火馬上就燎起來了。“隆——隆——隆!”這是粥在熬焦的聲音。

　　“現(xiàn)在我要在老頭子的襪子上打些洞了!”小鬼說。“我要在他的腳后跟和前趾上弄出洞來，好叫她在不寫詩的時候有點什么東西補補縫縫。詩太太，請你補補老頭子的襪子吧!”

　　貓兒這時打了一個噴嚏。它傷風(fēng)了，雖然它老是穿著皮衣服。

　　“我打開了廚房門，”小鬼說，“因為里面正熬著奶油——比漿糊還要稠的奶油。假如你不想舔幾口的話，我可是要舔的!”

　　“如果將來由我來挨罵和挨打，”貓兒說，“我當(dāng)然是要舔它幾口的!”

　　“先舔后挨吧!”小鬼說。“不過現(xiàn)在我得到那個學(xué)生的房間里去，把他的吊帶掛在鏡子上，把他的襪子放進(jìn)水罐里，好叫他相信他喝的混合酒太烈，他的腦袋在發(fā)昏。昨天晚上我坐在狗屋旁邊的柴堆上，跟看家狗開了一個大玩笑：我把我的腿懸在它頭上擺來擺去。不管它跳得怎樣高，它總是夠不到。這把它惹得火起來了，又叫又號，可是我只搖擺著雙腿。鬧聲可真大啦。學(xué)生被吵醒了，起來三次朝外面望，可是他雖然戴上了眼鏡，卻看不見我。他這個人老是戴著眼鏡睡覺。”

　　“太太進(jìn)來的時候，請你喵一聲吧!”貓兒說。“我的耳朵不大靈，因為我今天身體不舒服。”

　　“你正在害舔病!”小鬼說。“一舔就好了!把你的病舔掉吧!但是你得把胡子弄于凈，不要讓奶油留在上面!我現(xiàn)在要去聽了。”

　　小鬼站在門旁邊，門是半掩著的。房間里除了太太和學(xué)生以外，什么人也沒有。他們正在討論學(xué)生高雅地稱為“家庭中超乎鍋兒罐兒之上的一個問題——才氣的問題”。

　　“吉塞路普先生，”太太說，“現(xiàn)在我要給你一件有關(guān)這一類的東西看。這件東西我從來沒有給世界上的任何人看過——當(dāng)然更沒有給一個男人看過。這就是我所寫的幾首小詩——不過有幾首也很長。我把它們叫做‘一個淑女的叮當(dāng)集’!我這個人非常喜歡古雅的丹麥字。”

　　“是的，我們應(yīng)該堅持用古字!”學(xué)生說。“我們應(yīng)該把德文字從我們的語言中清除出去。”

　　“我就是這樣辦的!”太太說。“你從來沒有聽到我用這Kleiner或者Butterdeig這樣的字，我總是說Fedtkager和Bladdeig。”

　　于是她從抽屜里取出一個本子;它的封面是淡綠色的，上面還有兩攤墨漬。“這集子里有濃厚的真實感情!”她說。“我的感情帶有極強烈的感傷成分。這幾首是《深夜的嘆息》，《我的晚霞》。還有《當(dāng)我得到克倫門生——我的丈夫的時候》——你可以把這首詩跳過去，雖然里面有思想，也有感情。《主婦的責(zé)任》是最好的一首——像其他的一樣，都很感傷：這正是我的優(yōu)點。只有一首是幽默的。它里面有些活潑的思想——一個人有時也不免是這樣。這是——請你不要笑我!——這是關(guān)于‘做一個女詩人’這個問題的思想。只有我自己和我的抽屜知道這個思想，但現(xiàn)在你，吉塞路普先生，也知道了。我喜歡詩：它迷住我，它跟我開玩笑，它給我忠告，它統(tǒng)治著我。我用《小鬼集》這個書名來說明這種情況。你知道，古時農(nóng)民有一種迷信，認(rèn)為屋子里老是有一個小鬼在弄玄虛。我想象我自己就是一個屋子，我身體里面的詩和感情就是小鬼——這個小鬼主宰著我。我在《小鬼集》里就歌唱他的威力。不過請你用手和嘴答應(yīng)我：你永遠(yuǎn)不能把這個秘密告訴我的丈夫和任何其他的人。請你念吧，這樣我就可以知道你是不是能看清我寫的字。”

　　學(xué)生念著，太太聽著，小鬼也在聽著。你要知道，小鬼是在偷聽，而且他到來的時候，恰恰《小鬼集》這個書名正在被念出來。

　　“這跟我有關(guān)!”他說。“她能寫些關(guān)于我的什么事情呢?我要捏她，我要捏她的雞蛋，我要捏她的小雞，我要把她的肥犢身上的膘弄掉。你看我怎樣對付這女人吧!”

　　他努起嘴巴，豎起耳朵，靜靜地聽。不過當(dāng)他聽到小鬼是怎樣光榮和有威力、小鬼是怎樣統(tǒng)治著太太時(你要知道，她的意思是指詩，但是小鬼只是從字面上理解)，他的臉上就漸漸露出笑容，眼睛里射出快樂的光彩。他的嘴角上表現(xiàn)出一種優(yōu)越感，他抬起腳跟，踮著腳尖站著，比原先足足增長了一寸高。一切關(guān)于這個小鬼的描寫，使他感到非常高興。

　　“太太有才氣，也有很高的教養(yǎng)!我真是對她不起!她把我放進(jìn)她的《叮當(dāng)集》里，而這集子將會印出來，被人閱讀!現(xiàn)在我可不能讓貓兒吃她的奶油了，我要留給自己吃。一個人總比兩個人吃得少些——這無論如何是一種節(jié)約。我要介紹、尊敬和恭維太太!”

　　“這個小鬼!他才算得是一個人呢!”老貓兒說。“太太只須溫柔地喵一下——喵一下關(guān)于他的事情，他就馬上改變態(tài)度。太太真是狡猾!”

　　不過這倒不是因為太太狡猾，而是因為小鬼是一個“人”的緣故。

　　如果你不懂這個故事，你可以去問問別人;但是請你不要問小鬼，也不要問太太。

　　《小鬼和太太》英文版：

　　YOU have all heard of the Nis, but have you ever heard of the Dame,—the Gardener’s Dame? She had plenty of reading; knew verses by heart; aye, and could write them herself with ease; except that the rhymes, “clinchings,” as she called them, cost her a little trouble. She had gifts of writing, and gifts of speech; she could well have been priest, or, at all events, the priest’s wife.

　　“The earth is beauteous in her Sunday gown,” said she, and this thought she had set in regular form and “clinching;” set it up in a ditty, that was ever so fine and long.

　　The Under-schoolmaster, Mr. Kisserup (not that it matters about his name), was a cousin of hers, and on a visit at the Gardener’s; he heard the Dame’s poem, and it did him good, he said—a world of good. “You have soul, ma’am” said he.

　　“Fiddle-de-dee!” said the Gardener. “Don’t be putting such stuff in her head. Soul indeed! a wife should be a body, a plain, decent body, and watch the pot to see that the porridge is not burnt.”

　　“The burnt taste I can take out of the porridge with a little charcoal,” said the Dame, “and out of you with a little kiss. One might fancy you thought of nothing but greens and potatoes; and yet you love the flowers;” and so saying, she kissed him. “Flowers are all soul!” said she.

　　“Mind your porridge-pot,” said he, and went off into the garden. This was his porridge-pot, and this he minded.

　　But the Under-schoolmaster sat in the Dame’s parlor, and talked with the Dame. Her fine words, “Earth is beauteous,” he made the text of a whole sermon, after his own fashion.

　　“Earth is beauteous, make it subject unto you! was said, and we became the lords. Some rule it with the mind, others with the body. This man is sent into the world like an incorporate note of admiration! that man like a dash of hesitation: We pause, and ask, Why is he here? One of us becomes a bishop; another only a poor under-master; but all is for the best. Earth is beauteous, and always in her Sunday gown! That was a thought-stirring poem, ma’am full of feeling and cosmography!”

　　“You have soul, Mr. Kisserup,” said the Dame, “a great deal of soul, I assure you. One gains clearness of perception by talking with you.”

　　And so they went on in the same strain, as grand and, excellent as ever. But out in the kitchen there was somebody else talking; and that was the Nis, the little gray-jacketed Nis with his red cap—you know him. The Nis sat in the kitchen, playing the pot-watcher. He talked, but nobody heard him except the great black tom-cat,“Cream-thief,” as the Dame called him.

　　The Nis was snarling at her, because she did not believe in his existence, he found: true, she had never seen him; but still, with all her reading, she ought to have known he did exist, and have shown him some little attention. She never thought, on Christmas Eve, of setting so much as a spoonful of porridge for him; though all his forefathers had got this, and from dames, too, who had had no reading at all: their porridge used to be swimming with cream and butter. It made the cat’s mouth water to hear of it.

　　“She calls me an idea!” said the Nis: “that’s quite beyond the reach of my ideas. In fact, she denies me. I’ve caught her saying so before, and again just now, yonder, where she sits droning to that boy-whipper, that understrapper. I say with Daddy, ‘Mind your porridge-pot.’ That she doesn’t do: so now for making it boil over.”

　　And the Nis puffed at the fire till it burned and blazed. “Hubble—bubble—hish!” the pot boiled over.

　　“And now for picking holes in Daddy’s sock,” said the Nis. “I’ll unravel a long piece, from toe to heel; so there’ll be something to darn when she’s not too busy poetizing, Dame poetess, please darn Daddy’s stockings.”

　　The Cat sniggered and sneezed; he had caught cold somehow, though he always went in furs.

　　“I’ve unlatched the larder-door,” said the Nis. “There’s clotted cream there as thick as gruel. If you won’t have a lick, I will.”

　　“If I am to get all the blame and beating,” said the Cat, “I’ll have my share of the cream.”

　　“A sweet lick is worth a kick!” said the Nis. “But now I’ll be off to the Schoolmaster’s room, hang his braces on the looking-glass, put his socks in the water-jug, and make him believe that the punch has set his brain spinning. Last night: I sat on the woodstack by the kennel. I dearly love to bully the watch-dog; so I swung my legs about in front of him. His chain was so short he could not reach them, however high he sprang: he was furious, and went on bark-barking, and I went on dingle-dangling; that was rare sport! Schoolmaster awoke, and jumped up, and looked out three times; but he couldn’t see me, though he had got barnacles on; he sleeps in his barnacles.”

　　“Say mew, if Dame is coming,” said the Cat; “I am hard of bearing: I feel sick to-day.”

　　“You have the licking sickness,” said the Nis; “l(fā)ick away; lick the sickness away. Only be sure to wipe your beard, that the cream mayn’t hang on it. Now I’ll go for a bit of eavesdropping.”

　　And the Nis stood behind the door, and the door stood ajar. There was no one in the parlor except the Dame and the Under-master. They were talking about things which—as the Schoolmaster finely observed—ought in every household to rank far above pots and pans—the Gifts of the Soul.

　　“Mr. Kisserup,” said the Dame, “I will now show you something in that line, which I have never yet shown to any living creature—least of all to a man—my smaller poems -some of which, however, are rather long. I have called them ‘clinchings by a Gentlewoman.’ I cling to those old designations.”

　　“And so one ought,” said the Schoolmaster; “one ought root the German out of our language.”

　　“I do my best toward it,” said the Dame. “You will never hear me speak of Butterdeig or Kleiner; no, I call them past-leaves and fatty-cakes.”

　　And she took out of her drawer a writing-book, in a bright green binding, with two blotches of ink on it.

　　“There is much in the book that is earnest,” said she: “my mind inclines toward the sorrowful. Here now is my ‘Midnight Sigh,’ my ‘Evening Red,’ and here ‘When I was wedded to Klemmensen’—my husband, you know; you may pass that over, though it has thought and feeling. ‘The Housewife’s Duties’ is the best piece—sorrowful, like all the rest; I am strongest in that style. Only one single piece is jocular: it contains some lively thoughts—one must indulge in them now and then—thoughts about—don’t laugh at me—about being a poetess! It has hitherto been all between me and my drawer; and now you make the third of us, Mr. Kisserup. Poetry is my ruling passion; it haunts and worries me—it reigns over me. This I have expressed in my title ‘The Little Nis.’ You know the old cottage tales about the Nis, who is always playing pranks in the house. I have depicted myself as the house, and my poetical feelings as the Nis, the spirit that possesses me. His power and strength I have sung in ‘The Little Nis;’ but you must pledge me with hands and mouth never to reveal my secret, either to my husband or any one else. Read it aloud, so that I may hear whether you understand the composition.”

　　And the Schoolmaster read, and the Dame listened, and so did the little Nis. He was eavesdropping, you know; and he came up just in time to hear the title of “The Little Nis.”

　　“Ho! ho!” said he; “that’s my name! what has she been writing about me? O, I’ll give her tit for tat; chip her eggs, nip her chickens, hunt the fat off her fatted calf: fie upon such a Dame!”

　　And he listened with pursed-up lips and pricked-up ears but as he heard of the Nis’s power and glory, and his lordship over the Dame (it was poetry, you know, she meant, but the Nis took the name literally), the little fellow began smiling more and more; his eyes glistened with pleasure; then came lines of dignity in the corners of his mouth; he drew up his heels, and stood on his toes an inch or two higher than usual; he was delighted with what was said about the little Nis.

　　“I have done her wrong! She is a Dame of soul and high breeding! She has put me into her ‘Clinchings,’ and they will be printed and read! No more cream for Master Cat: I shall let nobody touch it but myself. One drinks less than two, so that will be a saving: and that I shall carry out, and pay respect and honor to our Dame.”

　　“Ah, he’s a man all over, that Nis,” said the old Cat. “Only one soft mew from the Dame, a mew about himself, and he changes his mind in a jiffy! And that Dame of ours, isn’t she sly!”

　　But the Dame was not sly; it was all because the Nis was a man.

　　If you cannot understand this story, ask somebody to help you; but do not ask the Nis—no, nor yet the Dame.

　　主題與寓意

　　人性的復(fù)雜性：故事通過小鬼和園丁太太的互動，展示了人性的多面性。小鬼原本因為誤解而敵視園丁太太，但通過了解真相后，轉(zhuǎn)變了對她的看法。這反映了人們往往因為片面的信息而對他人形成偏見，而真相往往并非如此。

　　社會現(xiàn)象的多樣性：故事中的園丁太太代表了有學(xué)問、有才華的人，而小鬼則代表了那些被忽視或誤解的人群。通過他們的互動，反映了社會中不同群體之間的誤解和偏見。

　　贊美與批評的影響：小鬼的態(tài)度轉(zhuǎn)變，從敵視到尊敬，完全是因為他聽到了園丁太太被贊揚的話語。這表明了正面評價對個人行為和態(tài)度的積極影響，以及負(fù)面評價可能導(dǎo)致的對抗情緒。

　　安徒生的意圖

　　安徒生通過這個故事，旨在探討人性的復(fù)雜性和社會現(xiàn)象的多樣性。他通過小鬼和園丁太太的故事，反映了人們?nèi)绾我驗檎`解和偏見而對他人形成錯誤的判斷，以及正面評價如何能夠改變?nèi)藗兊目捶ê托袨椤＿@個故事不僅是對人性的深刻反思，也是對社會現(xiàn)象的一種批判。

　　作品中的位置和意義

　　在安徒生的作品中，《小鬼和太太》是一則寓言故事，通過簡單的情節(jié)展現(xiàn)了深刻的道理。它不僅是安徒生對人性和社會現(xiàn)象的反思，也是對讀者的一種啟示：在面對他人時，應(yīng)保持開放的心態(tài)，避免因為片面的信息而對他人形成偏見。

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